You Are In My Heart
by Shadowy Star
Summary: It's New Year's Eve and Gerald might be facing a problem. Well, drop the 'might' and make that a massive problem, and you'll get the picture. Part 3 of Holiday Collection. D/G


**You Are In My Heart**

by Shadowy Star

December 2013

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Coldfire trilogy. It belongs to C.S. Friedman. I do own this story. Characters, places and organizations not appearing or being mentioned in the books are also mine. Do not archive or translate or otherwise use it without permission.

**Summary:** It's New Year's Eve and Gerald might be facing a problem. Well, drop the 'might' and make that a massive problem, and you'll get the picture.

**A/N:** I've been out of town for a while and barely made it home for Christmas, had then some last minute shopping to do and tried to keep a drunk and depressed friend from getting more drunk on Christmas Eve. My apologies for the delay.

X-mas fic, short and teeth-rottingly fluffy. Honestly, better start shuffling your schedule to fit in an appointment with your dentist. Enjoy! Set in the Survivalsverse.

* * *

Gerald da Silva-Vryce was now standing in a jeweler's shop, glaring at the display in front of him in frustration. It was New Year's Eve and to say he was facing a problem was the understatement of the century. He still had absolutely no idea what to get Damien for the holiday and after considering –and discarding– clothes (as if his impossible husband didn't possess enough of those), flowers (too much of a cliché), a new sword (ditto), a subscription to a new medical research journal (probably what Geraldine was getting her father), a subscription to a new theology and philosophy journal (probably what his traitorous son was getting his father-in-law), let's say the jeweler was his last hope. And to think he started looking mid-October? After all, how difficult was it to find the perfect gift?

Especially annoying was the fact of a little smug grin on his husband's face a week ago, indicating _he_ had finished his own hunt for perfect gifts. Damn the man.

It was their first New Year as a married couple and Gerald wanted it to be perfect. Food to be delivered later in the evening had been ordered a month ago, right along with expensive wine. Gifts for the rest of the family were waiting at home though his son, his daughter-in-law and Renata, his three-weeks old granddaughter would be arriving in the morning.

He swore under his breath. _Think, Gerald, you're supposed to be a genius._ The problem was Damien didn't wear jewelry often – beside the wedding rings, of course.

He frowned again at the display of gold and silver, with the occasional platinum strewn in. A silver band for a man's wrist, intricately yet boldly etched and a ring, made of metal and stone complementing each other, caught his attention. Noticing his interest, the saleswoman stepped closer, clearly preparing to give him a speech about the pieces in question. Both pieces were obviously made by the same artist and made extremely well, yet somehow it just wasn't it. Any other time of year and he would be getting both pieces right away but for this special occasion he wanted … well, something special. Unique. He threw a scowl her way and she retreated, intimidated. Very good. At least, family life thankfully hadn't turned him into a complete softie, he thought. _Yet,_ his brain piped up. Another scowl followed and the woman blanched visibly despite her heavy makeup. Annoyed beyond measure, Gerald turned on his heel and strode out of the shop.

'It isn't the gift that matters but the love you put into giving it'. _And therein, ladies and gentlemen, lies the problem._ He knew he wasn't the most emotionally demonstrative man, and _yes,_ he applauded inwardly to the imagined audience, _isn't sarcasm a fine thing for a cold night?_

Having inspected every shop the town had to offer, he was walking back home when it started to snow. Just great! Not only was he returning without a gift but he was going to get soaked, too! His mood dropped dangerously close to absolute zero.

To his immense relief, Damien wasn't home yet, having been asked his opinion on a severe case of rare congenital bradyarrhythmia. That left Gerald with half an hour to come up with a gift, perfect or not. Walking out on that woman had been probably not the wisest course of action. That band of silver would look great around Damien's strong wrist...

Maybe that was the problem. He had to stop thinking about what _he_ thought would look good on his husband which ruled out everything from clothes to jewelry to underwear. Besides, while not as rich as Gerald himself, Damien was wealthy enough to buy himself anything he wanted. Being _the_ cardiology specialist of the East and owner and Head of a renowned hospital had its perks.

He sighed. It was just that his wonderful husband was content with _so little_. Not that he didn't indulge himself from time to time – and instead indulged Gerald more often than not. Damn! He reined in his anger and, being a scientist at the core, started to analyze the whole of the problem. And had he realized material gifts were out of the question months ago, he wouldn't have spent so much time on a useless search, he mused some time later.

Now, with twenty minutes left to Damien's return and two hours before the food would be delivered, his options were virtually non-existent.

'It isn't the gift that matters but the love you put into giving it.' Right. What could he give to this man who was the center of his world that would prove his love without a doubt? Should he just tie a bow around his neck and give himself to Damien? Preferably without a stitch of clothing on? Argh, how boring. _Love, Gerald, not sex_.

How to show what he so acutely felt yet was so unable to express with words. Words mattered. Words could wound, deeper than the sharpest blade. Words could be twisted to mean something completely different as he knew, as both of them knew. But words could also heal, could soothe many an ache in one's heart and mind.

And just like that, he knew what would matter to Damien – and how bitter a pill it was that he couldn't provide it. Because not even he_, _with all his genius, could build a time machine. He sat down on their sofa and stared unseeingly at his hands. Smaller hands than he used to have, darker skin.

It was how Damien found him about ten minutes later, those deep hazel jewels overflowing with concern at his lack of response as the other man knelt in front of him.

"Gerald, look at me," the worried voice asked and he obeyed.

Cheeks rosy from the frost and with a few stray snowflakes rapidly melting in his chestnut brown hair, the other man had never looked more beautiful. "What's wrong?"

Gerald drew a breath. "Nothing." He may not have a gift but Hell damn him if he was going to ruin this for Damien. He smiled. After a second, it stopped feeling forced.

He really thought he was succeeding when Damien fluidly unfolded himself from the floor and sat next to him. Then, strong arms were wrapped around his waist and he was manhandled into a warm and comfortable embrace. "Gerald," his other said, and how could a name, his name, contain such a vast realm of meaning, from love to exasperation to warmth to more love. "I know you. Now look at me and tell me what the vulking problem is."

Of course, the best method of deflection was to turn around, and deposit himself firmly in Damien's lap and kiss his impossible husband into silence. Thankfully, his talent in the field of distraction was still unparalleled even if his gift giving left much to be desired. Or his other was just letting himself to be distracted. With Damien you never knew. When their activities began to demand more space that their sofa could provide, they transferred to their bedroom, leaving behind a trail of discarded clothes one of them better remembered to remove later or 'merciless teasing' was far too nice a word for what their collective children would cheerfully and inevitably come up with upon arriving tomorrow morning. It was the last partially coherent thought to form in his mind before there were hands and lips on his body and everything was lost in the haze of passionate lovemaking.

Forty five minutes later he managed to drag himself to the surface of consciousness as a large hand lightly danced across his ribs, just this side of a tickle.

"Gera-a-ald," a mischievous grin could be heard in his beloved's tone. "Don't fall asleep on me. I got you something." Pain lanced sharply through his heart. He turned onto his back when he was sure it wasn't visible in his eyes. Not ruining this, never.

A small green box was placed onto his chest, complete with a silver and green bow. He sat up and opened it, gazing at a ball of what was possibly dark blue glass. Or some other glass like material.

His confusion must have been written all over his face because his husband broke into laughter. "It's not a paperweight, in case you were wondering. Turn it." Still confused, he did as he was told to see a round button with a character that meant 'on' in their ancestors' sometimes overcomplicated script. What was wrong with a plain simple 'ON'? "Now press it once."

Blue light filled the room and tiny glowing points of white were strewn across the ceiling. "What?" Gerald made, in complete surprise. As he continued looking, words appeared next to each and every point of bright light.

Damien smiled and took both of his hands in his larger ones, causing the fairytale like scenery above to dance up and down a few times. "Gerald, I know you dream of Old Terra. And while I can't get you there as I would want to, I can give you this. This is Terra's sky and those are Terra's stars, labeled and connected to form constellations our predecessors named long before they went into space to explore them. Furthermore, there are navigation marks and routes between some stars. Not quite the sa–"

Gerald threw himself into his other's arms and kissed him into speechlessness the second time today.

"I take it you like it." Said man remarked dryly some amount of time later.

"Of course I like it! Where on Erna did you find it? I mean I heard of devices like that but... And it's a working one!" And how his wonderful, wonderful husband had known what that epitome of scientific achievement was and what it did was a question left for later. Not that he wasn't curious, mind you.

"Let's say someone in Ganji was still owing me big time and leave it at that. Though the donation of a large sum to the Western Church surely helped. Along with my somehow forgetting to mention what exactly this is." How much mischief one could put into one line?

"And the Matriarch allowed it?"

"Gerald."

"Wait. The Matriarch?!"

His husband grinned, unrepentantly, and leaned in to place a kiss onto his lips to which he responded enthusiastically. When they drew back, the grin had softened into the most beautiful smile on Erna only Gerald was allowed to see. It sneaked right into his undeserving heart and set it alight with deep contentment.

Then, he remembered he had nothing to give to this incredible man and the world around him dimmed. Alright, time to face the music.

Not looking at Damien and thus successfully avoiding the 'facing' part, Gerald bit his lip. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, Damien, I … I didn't get you anything." A hand under his chin raised his head and turned it to warm pools of hazel. His other looked like he was going to protest but Gerald wasn't finished. Words mattered. Words mattered and maybe, just maybe the words right from his heart would be enough to let Damien know just how much Gerald loved him.

"I love you," he said. "I know I say it not often enough but please, Damien, please believe me if I say that I've never loved anyone in my life as much as I love you. Never did. Never will. You are in my heart and there you will remain until my death and beyond." There was a gasp and silent tears were escaping down his husband's cheeks. He went on. "To know that might not suffice but I can't turn back time and give you words of a man long dead. I know I don't deserve you. I know there's nothing in this world or the next one I could do to deserve you. I can only hope to do my best and make you happy." And now tears had found their way to his own eyes. Damn tear ducts...

Damien smiled, and Gerald's heart, that little ugly thing in his chest healed once by this very man, nearly shattered at the amount of love, happiness, and peace in those beloved hazel eyes. "I love you, too. Gerald, there are no words in any language to express how happy you make me. You see, I don't need a gift this New Year's Eve or any other in our future – as long as it's _our_ future. There's nothing that could compare to this man in my arms, alive and breathing. I got you to have and to love. What more could I ever wish for?"

Gerald drew a shaky breath, and smiled. "Same here, Love. Same here."

The ceiling, covered in stars of a far and distant world, was witness.

_FIN_

**Extra Notes: **

1) I did warn you, didn't I? That's what I call major fluffage! *grins and runs off *

2) For those interested: bradyarrhythmia is a condition where the resting heart rate is a) below 60 beats/minute and b) irregular. Depending on many factors, sometimes results in cardiac arrest and can increase the risk of myocardial and cerebral infarction.


End file.
